New Life
by Mimbulus
Summary: Missing Moment. Oneshot. Lana breaks the news to Sammy that she's leaving for Hollywood.


**Disclaimer:** McDonald's belongs to McDonald's. All other characters, plot, and ideas belong to Wendelin Van Draanen. I only own the writing.

**Author's Note: **I've never tried writing in the Sammy Keyes world before, and it's really ridiculously fun. This doesn't have much in the way of plot; mostly it was just an exercise to get into the rhythm of the world. Still, I hope you enjoy!

It's not like I was expecting some big surprise party for my birthday, or anything. I'm only turning twelve, after all, and it's not like I've really liked any of the parties Mom's ever thrown me. She used to make me have one every year, send out invitations to all the kids in my class, even the ones I didn't like, wear frilly dresses, the whole deal. Well, I've never been much of a dress person, and I can _definitely_ live without having kids I hate at my birthday party. So to me, dinner at McDonald's was a perfectly good way to spend my birthday.

Marissa gave me a softball pen in class, and I doodle with it on a napkin while I wait for Mom to finish pretending to eat her French fries. For all the griping she does about money, you'd think she wouldn't order something she didn't like, but she swears that she loves fries. When about a quarter of them have actually made their way into her mouth, she stops and _looks_ at me.

I hate that look that grown-ups get when they're about to have a serious talk with you. It's like they're just waiting for you to burst into tears or something. The last time I cried was in second grade when I fell off the monkey bars and broke my arm, and I'm not about to start again now because of something someone _says_.

"Samantha," Mom says, "there's something I need to talk to you about."

"Okay." I wonder if this is about sex. Mom's just the kind of person who would think I didn't know where babies come from.

"You know my job?"

Okay, probably not about sex, then. "What about it?" I ask.

"You know that I don't like it much, right?"

I nod, and suddenly notice that Mom's not looking at me. She's looking at her ice-cold fries.

"And you want me to have a job I like, right?"

I nod again. "Of course I do."

Mom takes a deep breath and blows it out. She's still not looking at me.

"Well, the job I want – the one I want more than anything else in the world – is to be an actress. I can't do it anymore, Samantha. I can't go to work as a waitress anymore. I need to get _out _there. I need to do the things I want to do."

I figure that if I wait her out, she'll get to the point eventually. It would only annoy her if I tried to hurry her on.

"So I'm going to Hollywood. I'm going to try to make it as an actress."

I blink. It takes a few seconds for the words to connect with my brain, but they finally make it.

"Wait. We're moving?" I don't want to move. Nobody in Hollywood plays softball. I'm sure of it.

Mom start's biting the skin on the knuckle of her index finger. It must be bad, then. She only does that when she's _really _uncomfortable – like when I bring up my dad.

"No," she says finally. "_We're_ not moving. I am."

"What?"

"I'm going to live in Hollywood for a while, and you're going to stay with Grams."

My mind goes fuzzy. I feel warm and cushioned, and I take a sip of my soda, like nothing's wrong. It _feels _like nothing's wrong. Then reality hits me.

"You're _leaving _me?"

"Only for a little while. You can come live with me as soon as I get work, I just need to be alone for a while to get there!"

"Mom!"

"Samantha, I need this! _We _need this!" She's finally looking at me, and I look right back. I see the worry lines around her eyes, the lone freckle on her nose that I loved when I was little, the awful Raspberry Swirl lipstick that's the only color she uses, and I hate all of it. I can't remember ever hating anything more.

"_We _don't need anything, Mom! I'm fine, right now!"

"Samantha, please. Don't make this harder than it already is."

I stare at her, hard, and I know: she's already made up her mind. She's going off to Hollywood to be an actress, and she's leaving me behind. I'm part of her old life. She's looking for a new one.

And _my _life will never be the same.


End file.
